


Applied ADHD Studies

by onemechanicalalligator



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Stimming, Troy has ADHD, coping skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: The study group helps Troy cope with ADHD.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Annie Edison, Troy Barnes & Britta Perry, Troy Barnes & Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes & Pierce Hawthorne, Troy Barnes & Shirley Bennett, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 52
Kudos: 210





	Applied ADHD Studies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [truestrepairman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truestrepairman/gifts), [damntrobed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damntrobed/gifts).



> Big thanks to everyone who shared their experiences for this story!! I hope you feel seen <3

**prologue**

Abed is the one who offers to schedule the appointment, when Troy is crying on the living room floor surrounded by three textbooks, three notebooks, some Netflix show on the TV, music playing from his cell phone, and 14 internet browser tabs on his laptop. One of the tabs is playing a YouTube video in the background, and the one open on the screen shows an email from Greendale informing him that he’s in danger of failing three of his four classes. 

Abed kisses him gently on the forehead and reminds him what they talked about the other night. He asks Troy if he’s ready, and offers to make the appointment so Troy doesn’t have to think about it. Troy turns his face so they can kiss on the mouth, and then he says okay.

But that’s not where the story begins. 

**troy**

The story begins with a little boy who squirms and wriggles and fidgets until Nana Barnes makes him find a switch, and then she uses it a few extra times because of how long he took to find it, because he kept forgetting, because in the backyard he saw a cool caterpillar, and then he found the toy truck he lost last week, and then he played with it for awhile because he forgot why he went outside in the first place, and he didn’t remember until Nana Barnes started hollering at him through the open window.

The story begins with a boy who is labeled as a _troublemaker_ in class, who gets scolded for constantly moving, only he doesn’t know how _not_ to move. Who keeps failing his reading assignments because he can’t focus on all the words, and his eyes keep skimming around, trying to make sense of what’s in front of him, and he tries and tries until he gets too frustrated to try anymore, and then he whispers to the girl next to him, asks her what the book was about, and it’s not his fault he doesn’t notice the teacher standing behind him when he does it.

The story begins with a teenager sitting in his bedroom, cheeks streaked with tears, gently hitting his forehead against the wall and whispering, _stupid, stupid, stupid._

**abed (one)**

When Troy starts at Greendale, he knows he’s a fraud. He knows he’s been faking his way through school this entire time, barely scraping by in his classes, finding shortcuts and loopholes whenever he can, and all he has to do is fake it through four more years and then he’ll be done with this forever. That’s why he acts cocky and sure of himself. That’s why he latches onto his identity as football star and prom king. That’s why he joins the study group.

It all comes crumbling down pretty quickly, though, because when he becomes friends with Abed, he can’t keep up the persona anymore. He’s forced to look at who he is and be better. He’s forced to let the real Troy out, only he’s not quite sure who the real Troy is anymore, and the whole thing is pretty daunting.

And that’s why he chooses to become part of _Troy and Abed_ instead of just _Troy._ Because figuring out who he really is is much less scary when he’s got someone by his side. And this isn’t just anyone he’s got by his side, it’s Abed, who is different than anybody Troy has ever known, and in all the best ways. Abed makes Troy feel like it’s okay to like the things he likes, even if they’re nerdy or uncool. Abed doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, which is the opposite of Troy’s whole life. Abed makes life interesting and exciting and magical.

Abed also doesn’t get upset when they’re having a conversation and Troy accidentally interrupts him, which happens way more often than Troy would like to admit (and not just with Abed). 

He doesn’t do it on purpose. Sometimes he doesn’t even notice it’s happening, and he immediately feels ashamed. Other times, he’s been spacing out during the conversation and so he latches onto something he hears that he can respond to, and he wants to respond immediately to prove that he _was_ paying attention, to prove that he’s been present this entire time, even though he hasn’t been at all. 

And Abed never gets mad when he does either of those things, never glares at him for interrupting or accuses him of being distracted. He just smiles or hums or tilts his head and continues with what he was saying. Like he just understands that this is the way Troy is, and he can’t help it, and that’s okay. Like it’s not the end of the world, even though sometimes it feels like it is.

It’s no surprise, then, that beginning a relationship with Abed turns out to be quick and easy. Troy finds that the idea of being with a guy doesn’t seem as scary as it used to, especially not when that guy is Abed. 

They start dating, and it feels like they’ve always been together. Like they always will be.

**pierce**

Troy doesn’t love living with Pierce, but at least he has a place to live when it comes time to leave his dad’s house. And it’s not long before he discovers a perk to living at Hawthorne Mansion: Pierce doesn’t get mad at him for talking too loudly.

It’s always been a problem for Troy, and people grumble at him about it all the time. The thing is, he’s not doing it on purpose. He doesn’t mean to be rude or disruptive. He just doesn’t understand how people seem to know exactly what volume their voice is supposed to be at all times. He’s missing something, some piece of that particular puzzle, some instruction in the manual that tells him, _this is what you’re supposed to do, and this is how you do it._

(It’s a feeling he thinks Abed probably knows pretty well, actually. When Troy asks him about it, he agrees. Then Abed apologizes, because he doesn’t actually know how to fix it, he doesn't know where the missing piece or the instructions are hidden. He has no advice for Troy. But it’s okay, because there’s just something comforting about knowing he’s not alone.)

Pierce is old, and he’s a little hard of hearing, so it actually benefits both of them when Troy talks loudly. Troy doesn’t make that connection until they’re in study group one day discussing who’s doing what on their partner assignment and Jeff asks why the two of them are shouting. 

Troy thinks it’s a good thing no one ever wants to come visit him at Pierce’s house. They can probably be heard down the street when they’re figuring out what to have for dinner.

**abed (two)**

Dating Abed means becoming familiar with all of his quirks and rituals, and Troy thinks it’s actually a lot of fun to pick apart the different pieces that make Abed who he is. Troy eats more buttered noodles now than he ever has in his life, and he learns not to change plans with Abed at the last minute, and he waits a second before hugging him so Abed can let him know whether it’s okay.

Troy’s favorite part is Abed’s collection of stim toys. 

He knows Abed explained once what they were for, something about sensory seeking and input, but to be honest, he doesn’t really remember. He didn’t understand. What he does know is that Abed lets him play with them sometimes, usually slipping a plastic tangle into his hands when he’s picking at his fingernails or handing him a Rubik’s cube to twist when he’s stressed out. 

Abed has a bunch of different colors of putty that he keeps around, and he’ll give a container of it to Troy when Troy can feel himself talking so fast his brain can’t catch up. And when they’re watching movies at night there’s always a box on the table full of stress squeezers and fidget cubes and koosh balls for Troy to pick from.

He doesn’t know how Abed knows when he needs them, but it seems like he’s always right. They make Troy feel better, safer somehow. Happier. More real. 

(He doesn’t tell that part to Abed, but he thinks maybe Abed knows anyway. He’s smart like that.)

**britta**

Troy doesn’t know why he’s like this. 

_He doesn’t know why he’s like this._

And he definitely doesn’t know how to fix it, sitting in his place at the table, watching everyone make plans to hang out after study group. Abed’s home sick today, so Troy doesn’t have any plans, but everyone else is making plans to hang out _together,_ and no one has said anything to Troy, so he thinks he’s probably not invited. And he doesn’t understand _why,_ what he did wrong, if they’re mad at him -- _oh god, are they mad at him?_

He’s running through his brain trying to figure out what he could have done wrong, remembering the time he pretended not to see Annie so he could cut in front of her at the water fountain, and how Shirley tried to get him to go to church with her a few weeks ago and he said no. And now they _hate him_ and it’s probably too late to do anything about it, and these are the best friends he’s ever had and it’s just _over,_ that’s just _it,_ and he would do _anything_ for these people but they’re _over_ him. 

Maybe he was just _too much._ He knows he’s overly emotional, and maybe it annoyed them one time too many. Maybe they’ve been annoyed with him this whole time and no one ever said anything to him. _Maybe he’s been hurting them this whole time without even realizing it._

(And what if Abed is over him too, what if he hurt Abed? Just because Abed isn’t here doesn’t mean he isn’t part of this. Maybe they called him when Troy wasn’t paying attention -- which, to be honest, is most of the time.)

Maybe they’ve all been talking behind his back.

Maybe they don’t know how much he loves them, or maybe they do know but they just don’t care. Maybe they _hate_ him. Maybe he’s so annoying and emotional and dumb that they just got sick of him, and instead of telling him, they’re just going to _leave him behind._ Maybe he’s just supposed to figure it out on his own, the fact that he’s out of the group now, if he ever really even belonged.

He sees a splash on the table and isn’t surprised to find he’s crying. He’s not sure how long he’s been crying, but he thinks this won’t help his case, if he even has one. His mind is going a hundred miles an hour and he’s overwhelmed by the pain of losing his friends, which feels like a knife in his chest, like actual, physical pain. Troy stands up.

“I’m sorry!” he screams, his voice wet and unsteady, and everyone goes silent and turns to look at him. Troy runs out of the room.

He runs to the wishing well and then he sits on the ground under a bush and scrunches his legs up to his body and puts his head in his hands. He’s still crying. He feels like the world is ending.

He doesn't know how long he stays like that. 

Eventually, Britta walks up. He recognizes her shoes. She’s stepping carefully, like she doesn’t want to startle him. Like she’s afraid of him, maybe. The knife twists in his chest. Britta probably hates him, so why is she here?

“Hey,” she says softly, sitting down next to him. “You okay?”

Troy sniffles and doesn’t say anything. He shrugs his shoulders, and then realizes she might not be able to see. 

“I don’t know,” he says dully.

“What, um, were you apologizing for back there?” she asks in the same soothing voice. “I don’t remember you doing anything that would warrant an apology.”

“For whatever I did to get kicked out of the group,” Troy mutters, realizing how stupid it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Troy, honey, why would you think you were kicked out of the group?” Britta still sounds soothing, but also utterly baffled.

“I just…” he begins, not sure how to take the cotton candy in his brain and spin it out into a thread that makes sense. He thinks it might melt before he can do that, because that’s what cotton candy usually does. The last time he and Abed got cotton candy it melted all over their hands, and it was this huge mess, and really hard to clean, and…

“Troy?” Britta says. “Are you okay?”

“You guys were making plans for after study group and you didn’t want me to come,” Troy blurts out in a rush. “And I thought maybe it was because you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Oh, Troy,” Britta says. She reaches out and puts a hand on his knee. “We just thought you were going to go home and take care of Abed, that’s all. Of course you’re welcome to come with us. We always want you.”

Troy starts crying harder, and buries his face back in his hands. This time they’re tears of relief, but also shame, because he’s clearly crazy, he clearly overreacted, and everyone saw.

Britta scoots over so she’s next to him and puts a hand on his back. She rubs his back while he cries, until he’s out of breath and out of tears, until he’s exhausted.

“You’re still welcome to come with us,” Britta says. “But if you’d rather go home, I’d be happy to take you.”

“I’d rather go home,” Troy says hoarsely. “Thanks, Britta. You’re the best.”

She drives him home and doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask him to explain his outburst, doesn’t scold him for his emotions. He thinks she might make a great therapist one day, after all.

**abed (three)**

When they move in together, Abed starts reading Troy’s school books to him. It’s a casual thing, he doesn’t bring it up, he just does it one day when they’re studying, and Troy is surprised at how much it helps. 

It’s not that Troy _can’t read,_ it’s just that looking at the big long blocks of text are hard for him to focus on, and he gets confused and ends up finishing a whole paragraph without having any idea what he just read, and then he has to read it again but the same thing happens, and then he gets frustrated.

Not only that, but somehow he can’t just do one thing at a time, so when he has his text book open he also has his computer in front of him, and music or tv (or both), and he doesn’t really notice he’s adding distractions until he’s got basically nothing _but_ distractions, and then he tries to put away everything but the text book, and the same thing ends up happening again.

When Abed reads it’s soothing, and it’s easier to focus on the one thing, to understand. He can process the information without getting confused, and he even remembers it later. His grades start to get better. 

Abed does another thing for Troy: he gets a set of small baskets for their apartment. He puts one next to the front door and one in every room of the house, even the bathroom, and he tells Troy and Annie the baskets are for important things like wallets and phones and keys, so that they have a specific place to go at all times, and that way they won’t get lost so much. He doesn’t mention that Troy is the one who is usually losing all of his stuff, he just frames it as a household tactic, and Troy appreciates that. 

They all take the baskets seriously, and Troy is amazed to find that they help, that leaving the house is no longer a struggle because Troy's lost something. There’s no longer a moment of panic every time they get ready to go somewhere. There’s no longer a feeling of dread while Troy wonders what's missing this time.

A few months later, Abed suggests that Troy start taking dance again. He tells Troy that he seemed happier when he was dancing on a regular basis, and Troy believes him because Abed is great at observation. He goes back and forth for a while, wondering what his dad would think, or what anyone else would think, and then he decides he doesn’t care what they think. He signs up for a class. 

Dance doesn’t just make Troy happy. It makes him feel more like he belongs in his body, like he belongs in the world. It helps his brain settle down a bit, helps him think better. It kind of feels like a miracle, and he remembers now that it felt that way when he took the class at Greendale, but he never connected the two things before. 

(He thinks Abed is a genius. He thinks he’s in love with Abed. He tells Abed that.)

**shirley**

“How were your classes today?” asks Shirley. “Add a teaspoon of baking soda.” They’re in the kitchen at Casa de Trobedison, and Shirley is helping Troy bake cookies for a bake sale. “Then a teaspoon of salt. Did you do okay on that test the other day?”

“My classes were good,” Troy says, stirring the bowl. “I got a B on the test, so I’m not complaining.”

“That’s wonderful!” says Shirley. “Are you ready for the next ingredients?”

“Wait, what did you just ask me to add?” asks Troy.

“Baking soda and salt,” Shirley says patiently.

“How, uh, much of each one?” Troy asks sheepishly.

“Troy Barnes! You need to pay better attention. A teaspoon of each. And then you can add the butter in a new bowl.”

Troy hunches his shoulders in shame and quickly mixes in the baking soda and salt. Then he looks at Shirley expectantly.

“The butter,” she reminds him. 

He picks up the butter and dumps it in the bowl.

“Troy! The butter is supposed to be in it’s own bowl! I just told you that!” She’s not yelling, but she’s not happy. It’s too much for Troy.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tears already falling. “I’m not good at this.” He pulls off the apron he’s wearing and stalks over to the blanket fort and pulls the sheets closed.

He lays on the bottom bunk for a while, wondering why this always happens to him. This is why he never bakes, and he tried to tell Shirley that, but she kept insisting that anyone could do it. He doesn’t mean not to listen, it’s never on purpose. And he feels like the worst, because Shirley deserves more than that, she and her cookies deserve his attention, and he just... _doesn’t seem to have any._

Some time passes, and then Troy sees a shadow approach the blanket fort.

“Knock, knock,” Shirley says, touching her hand lightly against the sheet.

“Come in,” Troy says, and sits up on the bed. He stares down at his hands, and Shirely comes and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry I scolded you,” she says, her voice low. “I know you didn’t do that on purpose.”

Troy shrugs. “I’m sorry I ruined the cookies,” he says.

“Sweetie, you didn’t ruin the cookies.” Shirley reaches for his chin and lifts it. “They’re in the oven right now.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your instructions.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “It happens. Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?”

Troy nods. 

For the rest of the day, he beats himself up about it.

**abed (four)**

Troy’s brain is crying and he’s laying on the floor when Abed gets home. 

He wants to do something. He’s bored. He doesn’t know what to do. He runs through a list of 7052034 things in his mind that he _could_ do, but he doesn’t want to do any of them. He feels restless and confused. He’s tried reading a book. Watching TV. Playing video games. He’s tired of being alone with himself. It freaks him out. His brain is too loud and too quiet at the same time.

Abed doesn’t say a word, just lays down on the floor next to Troy and takes his hand. He kisses it, then holds onto it.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a little while.

“I’m bored,” Troy says. 

“Oh,” Abed says.

“But not, like, regular bored,” Troy continues, trying to find the words to explain. “It’s like that kind of bored where everything is just empty and nothing, and your brain is screaming for something to do, and you have a bunch of songs stuck in your head, all at the same time, and you hate all of them, and you can’t make them stop. And you’re just stuck in that. And you’re afraid it’ll last forever.”

“Gotcha,” says Abed.

“Do you get that too?” Troy asks, surprised.

“Nope. But it seems like the kind of bored you can’t get out of yourself, so I’ll get you out of it instead.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With this,” Abed says, reaching for his messenger bag and pulling out a DVD. He holds it up in front of Troy’s face.

“The new _Kickpuncher?!”_ Troy sits up, smacking his head on the DVD. He grins at the horrified look on Abed’s face and then rubs his forehead. “Ouch.”

“Yup, the new _Kickpuncher,”_ Abed confirms. “It came out today. Let’s put it in and see if it wakes your brain up.”

It takes a while. Troy is antsy and can’t stop moving for the first hour of the movie. He loses focus a bunch of times. But eventually, eventually, his brain wakes up.

**annie**

“DAMMIT!” Troy yells, and drops the wifi router on the (thankfully carpeted) floor. He narrowly resists kicking it, and punches his palm instead. He’s boiling with rage and doesn’t know how to handle it, and somewhere in his mind he knows this is ridiculous, it’s just the internet, and it’ll probably fix itself in a few minutes. But that’s not comforting right now. Right now he’s just _angry._

Annie comes in.

“Are you alright, Troy?” she asks, her voice suspicious and concerned at the same time. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Troy says through gritted teeth, digging his nails into his hand. “The wifi isn’t working.”

“Okay,” Annie says slowly. “But...are _you_ alright?” She says it gently this time. 

“You don’t want to be around me right now, Annie,” Troy says, and goes off to the blanket fort. He puts on headphones and crawls under his covers and presses his face into a pillow and screams. Then he pounds on the pillow with his fists for a few minutes, just for good measure.

“Troy?” Annie calls through the sheet. “Are you sure you’re--”

“Leave me _alone,_ Annie!” Troy shouts, and then he puts his head on the pillow and starts to cry, confused by the anger still coursing through his body. He already can’t even remember what started this in the first place. He just knows he needs to be by himself until it passes or he’s going to destroy all his friendships.

He lays in bed for at least an hour thinking about all the things that are terrible in the world, in his life. He gets angrier when he remembers about the wifi. He thrashes back and forth under the blanket, buzzing with energy but without anywhere for that energy to go. 

Eventually, he slips out of the blanket fort to get a glass of water. Annie is in the kitchen, in front of the stove heating up the tea kettle. 

“I fixed the wifi,” she says calmly. “Would you like some tea?” She looks at Troy, her eyes kind.

Troy nods. “Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I got so upset.”

“Is there anything else on your mind?” Annie asks as she adds some water to the kettle. “Anything bothering you? No offense, you’ve just seemed kind of tense lately.”

Troy shrugs. He feels awful. There’s no reason for Annie to be this nice to him after he snapped at her.

“I’m not doing well in school,” he admits. “And I feel like a bad friend, and a bad person. I feel like I’m just kind of bad at life.”

“Troy!” Annie exclaims. “You’re not a bad friend, or a bad person. And you’re definitely not bad at life.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m missing something,” Troy explains. “Like there’s some piece that everyone else has that makes them competent, or together, or functional, and I just don’t have it. And then I’m behind in school and I’m bad at listening and I can’t follow a simple conversation and I can’t handle fixing the wifi and I keep forgetting my chores…” He tilts his head toward the pile of dishes in the sink that have been there for three days. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I hate it.”

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with stress. The tea kettle starts to sing and Annie pours each of them a mug, then leads Troy to the table.

“I’m sorry you’re struggling so much,” she says. “If you want, I could share some of the things that help me deal with stress. Maybe some of them could help you too?”

“Sure,” says Troy. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess. Thanks.”

She tells him the tea is a stress reliever all by itself, that she likes to drink soothing ones like chamomile, and he’s always welcome to share hers. She offers to do yoga with him sometimes to try to slow his brain down and help him be more present in his body. She suggests running, because she knows he likes that, and reminds him that he can practice dancing anytime, not just when he’s in class. She suggests scented candles, bubble baths, and long walks.

“Could you, uh, write those down for me?” Troy asks, embarrassed. He knows they’re all great suggestions, and he also knows he’s already forgotten half of them.

“Of course!” Annie says, and grabs a pen and paper, and before she can start writing, Troy walks over to her chair and wraps her in a hug.

**abed (five)**

“Can I ask you something?” Abed asks one night when they’re snuggled in the bottom bunk. Abed is working on the Rubik’s cube, and Troy is snuggled in an extra soft blanket.

“Yeah, anything,” Troy says.

“Do you know anything about attention deficit hyperactivity disorder?” Abed’s voice is hesitant.

“About what?” Troy twists his head to look at Abed, because what he just said sounded like total gibberish.

“ADHD,” Abed clarifies.

_“Ohhh,”_ Troy says. “I know it’s a thing, but I don’t really know anything about it.”

“Would you be upset if I told you I think you might have it?” Abed asks carefully.

“Why do you think that?” Troy asks. He’s _not_ upset, but he is curious.

“I was reading some stuff about autism online, because that’s a thing I do sometimes,” Abed says.

“Sure,” Troy replies. He knows Abed often likes to do research to learn more about his diagnosis.

“But it turns out that ADHD and autism have a lot in common,” Abed says. “And while I was reading about that, I read more about what ADHD really is, and...it reminded me a lot of you.”

“What, um...is it, then?” Troy asks.

“I’m glad you asked.” Abed opens up his laptop and sets it in front of Troy. The web page on the screen says _DSM-5 Criteria for ADHD_ at the top.

Troy reads slowly, appreciating that everything is written under bullet points so he can stay focused and not lose his place or get confused.

It talks about careless mistakes and failure to pay attention to details. 

It talks about trouble paying attention and listening when spoken to. 

It talks about losing focus and forgetting to finish chores or schoolwork. 

It talks about losing things and being distracted and forgetful. 

It talks about feeling restless and interrupting others.

Troy stops reading halfway down the page and stares blankly at the screen, feeling something he doesn’t recognize. It’s like he’s reading about himself on this website, and everything in front of him is real and relatable and _other people have these problems, too._

It’s like he’s found the missing piece of the puzzle.

For the first time, Troy feels _seen._

He closes the laptop and looks at Abed, who is watching him expectantly.

“I think I have this,” Troy says.

**jeff**

Jeff shows up at the apartment Thursday evening while Troy is home alone. He’s in the living room playing a video game, a textbook on the floor next to him.

Usually, Troy, Abed, and Jeff have dinner together every Thursday. Today, Abed texted Troy to tell him he was stuck on campus for a psych experiment, and Troy (of course) forgot to text Jeff to let him know.

Jeff knocks on the door and Troy calls, “Come in!” without pausing his game.

“Hey,” says Jeff. “We still on for dinner?”

“Abed’s stuck on campus for some experiment,” Troy says, his eyes still on the TV screen. “Sorry I forgot to tell you. You and I could still have dinner if you want.”

“Sure,” says Jeff. “I’d like that.”

Troy doesn’t respond. 

“Troy?” says Jeff.

“What?” says Troy, still facing forward.

“I said sure,” Jeff repeats.

“Sure what?”

“Troy!” Jeff says sharply, stepping between him and the TV screen. “Can you turn off the video game?”

“Oh,” Troy says. “Yeah.” He turns it off. Then he catches a glimpse of the textbook and groans. “Shit. I was supposed to be working on a paper.”

“Well, you can work on it after dinner,” Jeff suggests.

“Yeah, unless I get sucked into that video game again,” Troy says. “I’ve been obsessed with it for two weeks now. I don’t know why. This always happens, I get super into something and it's like I can’t do anything except that thing, and then one day it’s just...gone. And I kind of wish this one would be gone now so I could get some homework done.”

He sits on the couch and puts his head in his hands. Jeff sits next to him.

“It’s okay, Troy. You just have to focus a little more on--”

“No, that’s the problem!” Troy bursts out. “I _can’t_ focus. There’s something wrong with me.”

“What do you mean, there’s something wrong with you?” Jeff’s voice is calm and kind.

“Abed’s making me an appointment,” Troy explains, trying to reign in his anxiety and anguish. “To get tested. To see if something’s wrong with my brain.”

“To see if _what’s_ wrong with your brain?” Jeff asks suspiciously.

“If I have ADHD,” Troy mumbles. Thankfully, Jeff doesn’t ask him to repeat himself.

“Troy, you know there’s nothing wrong with having ADHD, right?” Jeff says.

“Everything is wrong with it,” Troy grumbles. “It’s ruining my life.”

“Right,” Jeff says. “But that’s not going to change if you get diagnosed. The only change will be that you can start to get some help for it.”

“What if I don’t have it and no one will help me?”

“Then we’ll work on ways to help you ourselves,” Jeff says. “The whole group. But if you and Abed both think you have it, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance you do.”

Troy nods. 

“I’m so tired, Jeff,” he says, and he's crying, and he hates that he’s crying, he _always cries._ “I feel like I’m just constantly trying to keep up. And I never really do. And I’m scared it’s never gonna end. I’m scared to have hope in case they can’t actually help me.”

Jeff puts an arm around Troy’s shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “One way or another, it’s going to be okay.”

“Sorry for being so…” Troy gestures vaguely at himself, and then shrugs.

“Don’t apologize,” Jeff says. “You’re allowed to be upset and stressed and whatever else you’re feeling. I promise.”

“I don’t know.”

“Troy. Look at me.” He waits for Troy to look at him. “You’re not alone. Me, Shirley, Britta, Annie... _Abed..._ and…” He winces. “...even Pierce, I think. We’re all here for you. We love you. And we’ll help you figure this out.”

Troy nods, his chin trembling again.

“You’ve got this," Jeff says firmly. "I’m sure of it. You know why?”

Troy shakes his head.

“Because _I know you.”_

**abed (six)**

Abed schedules the appointment, and Abed makes sure Troy goes to it. He waits outside, on the brick wall next to the building, and Troy sees him jump down when he walks out the front doors.

“Hi,” says Abed.

“Hi,” says Troy.

“How’d it go?” Abed asks casually, his voice its normal monotone.

“It was…good, actually,” Troy says. “It turns out I _do_ have ADHD. I have a prescription for some meds,” he adds, holding up a piece of paper. “And another appointment scheduled. Can we stop at the pharmacy?”

“Absolutely,” Abed says. 

At the pharmacy, they also pick up some candy and a movie. It’s kind of their tradition. They spend the evening in front of the TV, eating candy and popcorn. 

(Troy thinks Abed might be trying to keep things as normal for Troy as possible so he doesn’t get freaked out by his new diagnosis, and he appreciates it. A lot.) 

The medication doesn’t make everything 100% better, but it kind of feels like it does at first. The difference is like night and day, like someone has finally shut off the faucet that’s been flooding Troy’s brain and muddying everything up. For the first time in his life, he finds himself able to focus on one thing at a time.

Abed encourages him to keep using the coping mechanisms they’ve developed, to stay in that routine, and Troy does. _That’s_ easier, too, it turns out -- keeping a routine. And remember to do things like dishes. And reading a chapter of his textbook, although it still requires a lot of patience and attention to get through that particular task.

Troy feels new and whole in a way that he never has before.

He snuggles up next to Abed one night in the blanket fort and kisses him solidly, messily. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs into Abed’s mouth.

“For what?” Abed asks, pulling back a little.

“For noticing something was wrong. For not thinking I was just dumb or lazy or stupid or lame or--”

“Shh,” Abed says softly. “You _aren’t_ any of those things.”

“Yeah, but I _thought_ I was,” Troy explains. “It never really occurred to me that it maybe wasn’t my fault.”

Abed pulls him close, chest to chest, like he’s trying to force their hearts together. He wraps his arms tightly around Troy and buries his face into the place where Troy’s neck meets his shoulder.

“I love you,” Abed says. “You’re perfect. I need you to know that.”

“I love you, too,” Troy says. “More than anything."

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat about this fic (or ADHD, or anything, really) feel free to message me on [Tumblr](http://1mechanicalalligator.tumblr.com)!


End file.
